The Aftermath
by Cairdiuil Paiste
Summary: Months have passed since the events of Lost Hope. But Winter is here and the winds of change have not left the Enclave untouched. The Institute must rise to the occasion but how can it's occupants cope with the loss of one of their own? Lost Hope Sequel.


_**Author's Note**_

_**Ah yes, the long awaited (by very, very, VERY few people) sequel to "Lost Hope"- "New Hope"! I know, lame title. I'll eventually figure out another title- I hope. **_

_**If you have never read my previous story concerning Cassie Clare's Infernal Devices, "Lost Hope", I'd recommend reading that one before this one. It would make much more sense. **_

_**If you **__**have**__** read my humble yarn, here's a quick recap: Tessa went with Mortmain willingly in order to get a cure for Jem so he wouldn't die and as a result, Jem shall live!...for the moment; Will still likes Tessa; Sophie still likes Jem; while Jem and Tessa like **__**like**__** like each other but does Tessa still have feelings for the prettiest boy she'd ever seen?; Charlotte and Henry are still owners of the Institute; Magnus randomly pops up with glitter; the Lightwoods are still around and may randomly appear during this story; Mortmain is scheming and plotting and has ambitions to take over the known universe. Oh and Church has discovered the wonders of salmon. **_

_**Special thanks to BAmBi Magenta ANn, medea cassidy black, cherryblossom94, Elena, asheepiage, JodieD, Blue MnM's, Ski October and spoonsaredangerous for reviewing Lost Hope. You guys are amazing.**_

_**Special **_**Special**_** Thanks to Ski October for that lovely, lovely review for Lost Hope. I hyper-freaked for hours after those awesome possum comments.**_

_**More at the end of this fic! Just read the story first!**_

_**I don't own the Infernal Devices. If I did, do you think I'd be writing and publishing this junk on the Internet? Rated "T" just because. I may change the rating in future chapters, or, you know, not.**_

_**Chapter One**_

_**London, 1878**_

_**Three **__**months after the events of "Lost Hope" **_

_**Tessa Grey**_

Tessa Grey stared out of the window.

Watching.

Waiting.

It was raining. She could see the rivulets of water slowly make their way down the other side of the glass separating her from the world.

_And Jem…_

She furiously blinked away tears. It was time to move on, time to realise that all she had accomplished in the Institute was to destroy fragile friendships, tear apart allegiances and completely change the balance of power in the Shadoworld, sending ripples that were felt by every powerful Downworlder. And in London, there were many of those indeed.

Tessa's abilities hinted at a new warfare, a new way to spy on your friends and foes, your nearest and dearest. What man would suspect his loving wife of twenty years and the mother of his children, of betraying him? It would not cross his mind that she could just as easily be a complete stranger in his beloved's skin. It would be so _easy_ to then get the information she wanted.

And to Axel Mortmain and his followers, it was even better that she was female.

That meant she could get what she needed _anyway_ she wanted.

Tessa's current gilded cage was a mansion in Kensington. Yet another property of Mortmain's. Which was, no doubt, under a different name. They had already been in another opulent townhouse near Alexei de Quincey's former residence but had had to vacate the premises when one of the Magister's puppets had warned that the Nephilim were sniffing around.

Axel Mortmain had been quite surprising of late.

Tessa had expected quite a different lifestyle. But instead of a hard, uncomfortable, mattress to sleep on, she was provided with a soft, comfortable, king size bed. The dungeon became a spacious bedroom, with her own bathroom. Instead of rags, London's best tailors clothed her in the latest fashions. Jessamine would have been green with envy.

A library with a diverse range of books satisfied all of her literary needs, while a well equipped kitchen filled all of her dietary ones. The only thing she didn't like about her daily routine was dinner.

The food was exquisite (which was only to be expected), the tablecloth silk, the silverware of the finest quality. It was just the others seated at the table she had the problems with.

The city's skyline was unclear through the rain lashing down from the heavens. If Tessa looked to her far left, she could just about make out the spires of the Institute, piercing the clouds with a vengeance.

Right around now, dinner would be served by Sophie. Charlotte would politely ask how everyone's day was. Will would make an obscene comment and despite themselves, everyone would laugh. After Jessamine snorted into her handkerchief, she would say how immature/tasteless/juvenile/common he is. Will would bite back with a malicious remark and Jem would sooth things over with a calming tone and everyone would discreetly "cough" into their handkerchiefs again, chortling to themselves.

Again, Tessa fought back a tear. It wouldn't do to let the Magister see her cry.

She turned slowly, alerted by the door of her bedroom opening. Axel Mortmain stood in the doorway.

His shoes were wet. As was his face. And he still wore his overcoat. The Londoner had been out in the rain but had rushed up here without removing the wet articles to come and talk to her. Somehow, she wasn't surprised.

"Good evening, Tessa."

"Good evening, Axel."

This was their daily ritual. He insisted on first names.

"Dinner shall ready in five minutes. I would be delighted if you could attend." He smiled.

Her head bowed, she murmured, "It would be my pleasure."

He bowed elegantly, smiled at her, and left the room.

Tessa crossed the room to her chair and sat down. Again, a daily ritual. Mortmain _insisted_ on telling her whenever a meal was ready. Any second now, she would bustle in and help Tessa get ready-

"Good evening, Miss Grey! Time to get dressed for dinner. The master has guests he wants you to meet!"

Tessa smiled. It seemed Axel Mortmain had spared no expense in her comfort. Rosie White had been hired to cater to Tessa's every whim. She was in her twenties and from the East End. Her lively, dark eyes peered from under her cap up at Tessa. She was tall but compared to Tessa, she seemed to be just average. Her thick, dark, curly hair often escaped from her cap and a fat tendril currently framed her face. Rosie's tanned skin was almost unnatural outside the farming communities of the country.

The maid flung open the wardrobe door and browsed through the dresses, fingering the fabrics, an indiscernible look on her face. Tessa knew all too well she was an employee of Mortmain and despite her sunny disposition; she would not hesitate in telling her boss anything Tessa said. So Tessa was wary. But perhaps in the future, she would earn the maid's loyalty and therefore could count her as an ally.

Because while she was under the Magister's control, she was going to need all the allies she could get.

_**Axel Mortmain**_

Axel Mortmain stood with his hands clasped loosely behind his back, staring out of the large window in the library.

The gaslights were dimmed, the curtains held back by thick, golden tassels on the end of intricately braided ropes. The bookshelves extended to the ceiling and ladders gave accessibility to the higher levels. On the opposite side of the room from the double doors which were the main entrance into the library was the window out of which the Magister was staring.

He had taken off his overcoat and changed his shoes. Axel was now wearing more formal attire for dinner with his guests and Tessa. He wished to close a deal with these "businessmen", for lack of a better term. The deal would either be agreed with, or they would take an extended holiday. And buy property overseas. And never be heard from again.

That was the price of breaking off a deal with Axel Mortmain. You agree, and live, or end it, and _mysteriously disappear._ How do you think he got to be the leader of the Pandemonium Club?

De Quincy knew he was ruthless, and said so on several occasions. The only thing is, the vampire didn't know exactly _how_ ruthless until Mortmain betrayed him to the Nephilim. That was fun. Outwitting the men and women with the blood of angels was incredibly satisfying. William Herondale and James Carstairs were the most unbelievably annoying out of all of them.

In the weeks after his failed attempt at taking Tessa by force from the Shadowhunters, he had kept the Church of All-Hallows-the-Less under constant surveillance. It had not escaped his notice how as time went on, Tessa was found more and more often in the company of James Carstairs.

A stab of what he perceived as hate surprised him.

Mortmain had made a mistake in sending Nathaniel Grey after his sister and her companion in Hyde Park.

The American was supposed to merely observe them, not withdraw a knife and creep forward to attempt to kill the Shadowhunter….

Mortmain glared at London's skyline.

_Such a pity William Herondale had killed the elder Grey quickly. If I had had my chance, he would have died much slower and in excruciating pain…_

He had certaintly revised his scheme in how to ensure Theresa Grey's loyalty.

Perhaps in treating her much better, giving her all the comforts she might want, she would gradually wish less and less to return to her dear Nephilim. In time, she will forget all about a certain Shadowhunter or two…..

Axel Mortmain smiled to himself, his lip curling.

It was indeed a stroke of genius to give Tessa the cure for Carstairs' illness. Not only did no-one in the Institute realise she was gone until too late, Miss Grey was taken without any casualties on his part. Henry Blackwell was examining one or two of his clockwork automatons and it was vital the would-be scientist did not know how far he had progressed…

The only downside to this plan was that there was yet another Shadowhunter who will look for Tessa and Mortmain for as long as it took. Herondale and Carstairs were relentless in hunting him down. They were the reason the Magister had been forced to relocate to this house, his favourite one in fact. He hadn't planned on staying here with Tessa because he feared the Nephilim would force him to leave behind all of the various relics he had collected on his travels. A tea set from Japan, silk from China, spices from India. Masks from tribal Africa, dream-catchers from Native Americans, jade from Central America.

It was in this house that he kept navigational instruments from his ships, maps of distant lands and important paperwork concerning his company, properties and other assets.

In a room below the basement, unknown to the rest of the household, he kept grimoires and spellbooks, as well as his ultimate prize- the White Book. The Magister had stolen it from a former associate of the warlock Ragnor Fell. The associate had carelessly mentioned it to him at dinner in the Pandemonium Club. Of course, it hadn't hurt that Axel had slipped in an expensive truth serum he had purchased from one of the fey. Ragnor Fell and his younger colleague Magnus Bane had looked quite interested which sealed the child of Lilith's fate.

Axel had invited him to one of his dinner parties in order to seize the book. The warlock had looked suspicious when he discovered he was the only guest but he realised what predicament he was in too late….

Fell and Bane were still under the impression their friend had "wanderlust" and was currently exploring an ancient civilisation of Asia. He just hadn't specified which one.

A knock at the door drew him from his thoughts.

"Master Axel, your associates have arrived."

Time for dinner with Miss Grey.

**Author's Note:**

**Chapter One of the Aftermath is finally here! Read and weep people! I've been thinking about doing a sequel to this for months and have finally got round to doing so!**

**This chapter is dedicated to Derek Corinader, LegolasLover, MeOleJemBuddy and Ms. Wrong (hey, were you not eaten by a polar bear in the Arctic?).**

**I will update soon! You guys are awesome possum just for reading!**

…**.I wouldn't say no to any reviews either**

**cairdiuil paiste**


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